“From Sridevi to Princess Diana… justice was served to the queens, by the queens.”
LADIES, GENTLETHEMS, AND ICONS-IN-TRAINING… WELCOME TO THE OPERA.
On June 28, 2025, Mumbai did not sleep. She posed.
Down in the underbelly of Lower Parel, at antiSOCIAL, no less, the third annual IT BALL arrived not with a whisper but with a heel-click, head-whip, fan-thworp heard across the queer internet.
This year’s theme: Archive of Memories. And baby, memories were made.
A love letter to the icons we lost, the looks we never forgot, and the joy we keep choosing, every damn day. Presented by the House of Luna and It Events, this wasn’t just a ball. It was a reading, a reckoning, and a runway.
Now, open your notebooks, this is the ballroom HERstory. Here’s your official post-ball recap, for the girlies who missed it, and the ones who blacked out by category two.
THIS IS GLORIOUS LUNA’S WORLD. PERIOD.
The House of Luna didn’t come to play. They came to choreograph your life.
- Sunil opened with a classic Vogue performance that was equal parts Madonna Blond Ambition Tour and Charli XCX basement pop star fantasy.
- Rayaan gave us trans truth in theatre, an intense performance that could be described only as post-gender kabuki drama realness.
- DeeDeePls channelled heartbreak into pyromancy, turning pain into literal flames. You can’t buy this kind of catharsis at Therapy.
- And then, the icon herself, Glorious Luna, floated in like a couture fever dream. Beauty, fashion, soul, and the audacity to make it look effortless. Glorious reminded us all: self-love is for everyone. But Luna just does it better.
MEET THE JUDGE JUDYS
The judging panel? Untouchable. Well-dressed. Mildly intimidating.
- Alex and Asawari, filmmakers and co-founders of Star Hopper Films, brought cinema and snatched cheekbones in a leather-and-lace fantasy.
- Kshitij K, founder of The Dirty Magazine actually wore Maison Margiela, because fashion journalism is a contact sport.
- Miss Tik Tik brought Northeast pride and pageantry, with all the grace of a beauty queen and the sass like she IS the trophy.
- And Elton J Fernandez? The Art-and-The-Artist of our lives, channelled Grace Jones so hard, we almost asked for ID.
These weren’t judges. These were archivists of taste. If they chopped you, it probably built character.
STARS, STATEMENTS & LEGENDS (YES, LEGENDS.)
The night’s opening category was a massacre, in the best way.
- Gentleman Gaga gave us Egyptian opulence meets serpentine seduction. We saw hips move in ways that felt… illegal in most time zones.
- Divine Scarlet (Divya Roop) went full Louvre-core, stepping out as Mona Lisa reincarnated, smirking at centuries of art history and gender norms. It was giving: a museum exhibit meets the mother of the house.
The category was “Iconic.” And the girls understood the assignment.
THIRD TIME IS THE CHARM (AND THE CHARM IS DIANA)
The ballroom is reclaimed. And this year? We called the icons home.
- Agraj brought two ghosts out of storage: Sridevi, the eternal siren of the screen and sorrow, and the Nirma girl, yes, of detergent fame. It was camp. It was cultural commentary. It was clean. Archive of memories? Girl, she brought the whole f***ing detergent aisle.
- Nin Kala, our very own supermodel royal, served the story of Princess Diana across three categories: The divorce reveal, as she ripped off her wedding ring mid-walk and emerged in that. virginal bride with a veil longer than colonial trauma, only to reveal the iconic black “revenge dress”.
- And finally, a spectral resurrection, She rose from the ashes of paparazzi madness, no longer a princess… but the people’s f***ing queen.
Lady Di was not just avenged… she was canonised.
- Meanwhile, Flexi Gloss (from the House of Spice) reminded the girls and boys that muscle is fashion, and Barbie is a mindset.
FASHION WITH A CAPITAL F (FOR FLAWLESS)
References? Check. Runway? Check. Tailors sweating backstage? CHECK.
- From Mugler’s sharp sexiness to Galliano’s drama to Robert Wun’s sculptural nightmares, the girls did their homework. This wasn’t cosplay. This was couture combat.
- Velvet Vortex from the House of Spice, Yuvraj from House of Scarlet, and, of course, Queen Mother Glorious Luna herself were not playing around in the ready-to-wear section.
- They were stitching cultural trauma and hot glue into high fashion couture classics, all remixed and reimagined by Mumbai’s it girls, it thems, and their underpaid but over-talented master Jis
THE HEART OF THE BALL: JOY AS RESISTANCE.
Yes, there were chops. Yes, there were bruised egos. But the realest category of the night? Solidarity.
From death drops to vogue battles, to that one dramatic walkout (you know who you are) the space pulsed with queer love, ally support, and the kind of shade that comes with affection and a perfectly arched brow.
Some served. Some got served. But all of it? Unapologetically gay and deeply necessary. And ultimately, the spirit of ballroom isn’t about winning, it’s about witnessing.
And baby we witnessed that, queer joy had the room in a chokehold.
A SONNET FOR THE UNSUNG (AND THE UNHINGED)
And finally, let us not overlook the voice of the night — the shady bard, the scream queen of the mic, the patron saint of announcements: MC NoShade (that’s me, hi).
Rumour has it he bribed the organising queens with sexual favours (and well-timed memes) to host the Ball for the third year in a row. True? Possibly. Iconic? Definitely.
But behind the sarcasm and side-eyes, allow a brief moment of sincerity to remind us all why we do this. To celebrate queer brilliance. To achieve our existence in glitter and truth.
To choose joy, loud, defiant, and unapologetic — especially when the world offers none.
Because when the lights go down and the lashes fall off, it’s not the trophies we carry with us — It’s each other: the chosen families, the chosen names, the chosen chaos.
It’s queer existence as resistance, as romance, as fashion week with feelings. So let’s close on a note that’s both humble and haiku:
Roses are red / Violence is ew / My name is
Pratul / And I’m still not over that Diana look — are you?
IT BALL 03 is in the books. The gowns are archived. The bruises are healing. The legacy is...
immaculate. Till next year, beauties. Start sketching your fantasy because we will vogue again.
Picture Credits: Tabrez Shaikh & Akshay Paradkar
About the author: Pratul Narang is a Mumbai-based filmmaker and writer with a knack for storytelling that bites (in a good way). By day, he crafts compelling narratives for brands and personalities; by night, he moonlights as a host/emcee in the underground scene, bringing the drama and flair. His work explores themes of queerness, identity, and urban life with a dash of humor and heart. Pronouns: he/they. Think of him as a master of words and mic – equal parts poet, provocateur, and party starter.
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